


in stars, in snow, in memories

by Feyre



Series: i drowned so you could breathe [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Other, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Vignette, im just indulging myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-11 01:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20537990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feyre/pseuds/Feyre
Summary: A series of vignettes studying the events of Shadowbringers.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> just another 4am post rolling through

_ Persephone.  _

He breathes your name like a reverent prayer of devotion. Feather touches brush against your skin; your lips are caught in tender kisses that taste of moonlight. The bed against your bare back is soft like the flower fields that lay upon the edge of the city. The man between your legs looks at you with such adoration you feel as if you could drown in it. 

_ Persephone, _

_ Persephone, _

_ Persephone  _

Your name is a lament of love. He decorates your body in kisses and bites, and you respond in kind with moans and the tangling of your long fingers into tousled silver hair. The two of you have been tangled in this bed for what seems like both an eternity and a matter of seconds, and you find yourself wishing to stop time and live in this moment forever. If your creation magic allowed you to, you would in less than a heartbeat. 

Amidst your hazy thoughts, you feel a soft hand cupping your cheek, and you look up demurely to see what passing fancy has captured your lover’s mind. He tilts your chin up, and you’re met with molten gold eyes that stares into the very recesses of your soul.

“Say my name,” he demands softly. You feel the heat rise on your cheeks, and your eyes dart away in bashfulness. But for this man, there is no denying him anything. You would give the world to him. So you pout, and open your mouth to stutter: 

✦

Light filters through the window of your room, your eyes still heavy with sleep. The name of the man in your dreams lies just upon the tip of your tongue, his golden eyes seared into your vision. You let out a soft exhale, and for a moment you feel like you’ve grasped it in your reach -- 

but the name and the dream have already started to fade away like dust unto shadows, until your eyes close once again and all you see is the neverending darkness before you. 

The chasm in your chest widens, and you mourn the dream you cannot remember. The residual echoes of emotions are the only hints that you’ve dreamt anything at all. You shift your head to the side and gaze at your outstretched arm. Your hand is cold and empty, and you clench your fingers into a fist and cannot help but feel as if you’ve lost something entirely once again. 


	2. ii.

✦

_ Your time has not yet come.  _

The hum that murmurs against your ears reminds you of a soft gust of breath against the rim of a half-filled glass of wine. There is an eerie feeling that accompanies this hymn, a sort of uneasiness that makes the tip of your fingers tingle in discomfort. Beneath you, the rough texture of dirt and grass scrape against your skin.

You are loathe to open your eyes. Whatever had summoned you had taken you on a mosaic of memories, some that you did not wish to remember, some that left your heart worse for wear. Not for the first time, you wished you could drift into unconsciousness, pretend for once that you had time to spend for yourself. 

But you don’t. Perhaps you never will in this lifetime. It was clear that whoever had summoned you had done so with purpose, and so you open your eyes in great reluctance.

You’re unsure of what to think of the scene you behold: a lilac painting that bleeds into an aurora of white and gold light that is almost reminiscent of the ones you once gazed upon with Estinien in Coerthas. For a brief moment you miss him, long as it’s been since you’ve last spoken to him; a liason that seems like a different lifetime.

It is perhaps as beautiful as it is unfamiliar. The sun blazes brightly, but the air is cool against your skin.

Gingerly, you pick yourself up, brushing off the debris from your clothes. Your first few steps are the unsteady stumble of a newborn babe just learning how to walk, and you press a palm against your pounding head. You aren’t sure if it’s from the sudden violent travel, or the ringing that seems to linger in the air. But slowly, your gait steadies, and you cautiously observe the fauna and floral around you -- or lack thereof, rather. What does not escape your notice is how sparse the world seems without its monsters, a distinct juxtaposition from the mob-riddled lands of Eorzea. 

It isn’t long until you catch sight of another traveller, chocobo at his side and a warm hearth blazing in the clearing. A small stroke of luck: you hadn’t expected to come across another in so short of a travel. Tentatively, you make your way towards them, and raise a hand in greeting.

The man startles at the sight of you, as if he thinks you’d be a monster pouncing up behind him. But a cursory glance deems you as safe, and he greets you with a warm smile.

“Now who might you be? It’s rare to meet someone out here who’s not a peddler themself. What brings you into the wilds at this time o’ the night?” 

“Another lost soul, I suppose,” the tip of your lips quirk upwards, and you gaze back at the sky that pans before you. It seems as if it’s anything but nighttime. “Night? But it’s bright as day…” you trail off, looking inquisitively back at the merchant. You receive a reply in a loud guffaw, as the man slaps his hand against his thigh in excess merriment, his other holding the bottle of liquor precariously. 

“Well if that isn’t the oldest joke in the book! Reminds me of my grandfather - gods bless his soul - of the jokes he’d tell to the barman.” The merchant motions the bottle of liquor towards you in offering; you smile but shake your head. Too many a times have your experiences with unfamiliar drinks taken a wrong turn. Your newest companion shrugs, and takes a swig. “‘An’ when, pray tell, did we last have a dark night? Over a hundred bleedin’ years ago, that’s when!” The old man chortles out another laugh, tilts his head back for another deep gulp. 

Your lips part in shock, and you return your gaze to the phenomenon that drapes over your head. “One hundred years…” you murmur. You think of countless nights laid under shining stars, moonlight reflected upon calm waters, and hour upon hours of tracing constellations to chase away the nightmares. Night, you think, is not something you can live without. 

For a few breaths, silence lays between the two men. 

The merchant takes the last sip of his bottle, and stretches. “Well, I’ve got roads to travel and wares to sell, but you -- you’d best hurry along to the town nearby. Head east towards the trees: ‘tis the biggest settlement for malms around.” He stands, and the warrior soon follows suit.

“Thank you.” 

The merchant only gives a pensive smile, as if he knows this is the last time he’ll see his new acquaintance.“Go on now; they will take care of you at the Crystarium.” 

_ Tread quickly,  _ is what he doesn’t say,  _ before you meet a fate worse than death.  _

Bidding a brief farewell, you set forward, the lilac canopy seeming like an endless sea. But soon they part, and you gasp. A sudden wave of wistfulness hums throughout your body, and your footsteps falter for a second. Here is a memory you have not revisited in quite some time; a forgotten monarch, mysterious twins, a friend fused with crystal. 

What was once a passing curiosity now looms before you, bright and daunting and surely not of this world: this gleaming spire of crystal nostalgia that yearns to pierce the yawn of everlasting light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i must have re-watched this scene a hundred times, but still can't capture the melancholy that accompanies it. i'll have to revisit and edit this piece later; the pacing is odd, but i'm all out of ideas and it's been a couple days. still trying to get used to writing again.
> 
> there's a plot in here somewhere, so while i've written out future chapters i'm loathe to publish them out of order. not sure what part of the story i should tackle next for the sake of chronology, though. i'll have to muse about it.

**Author's Note:**

> a futile exercise in writing. 
> 
> (i'm very out of practice)


End file.
